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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28856553">Fragments of Sun</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/intheKnickoftime/pseuds/intheKnickoftime'>intheKnickoftime</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Purple Hyacinth - Ephemerys &amp; Sophism (Webcomic)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(just you wait), (yet), :), AHEM anyways this is. kinda soft?, F/M, I think at one point it was intended to turn into angst, Just a little bit of pining, Lauren bein a nice friend, a smidge, but I didn't have the heart to do that to you guys again, i really really don't know what this is, kywi in the rain again, please talk to each other, they're both dumb</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:00:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,062</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28856553</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/intheKnickoftime/pseuds/intheKnickoftime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Will must be rubbing off on you.</i>
</p><p>Kym finds that she doesn’t wish to examine that statement further.</p><p>“Rubbing off on me,” she scoffs into the empty breakroom, hands tightening around her empty mug. “We’re nothing alike.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kym Ladell &amp; Lauren Sinclair, William Hawkes &amp; Kym Ladell, William Hawkes &amp; Lauren Sinclair, William Hawkes/Kym Ladell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fragments of Sun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>:fingerguns: here's a drabble nobody asked for. enjoy, I suppose?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>The sun was a blinding, burning thing- and so, also, was the partnership christened Soleil.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>So bright, in fact, that neither one could bear to look at the other. Not in the eyes. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>“Watch where you’re going next time, Lieutenant!”</p><p> </p><p>Kym’s reproachful tawny eyes flash at him from over a monstrous stack of files, balanced haphazardly in her arms. Will rolls his eyes with a sigh and opens his arms, plucking the topmost bundles from her grasp.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re the one who couldn’t see over what you were carrying,” he comments dryly, holding one up to inspect it, registering a vaguely familiar but half-forgotten case name. “What are these?”</p><p> </p><p>“Anything and everything I could find relating to <em> anything </em> Lune-related,” Kym replies, grinning a little wickedly over her still-impressive pile. “Our dear archivist Kieran was <em> ever </em>so helpful.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm.” he’s only half-listening now, paging through a stack of reports. She’s compiled a monstrously large compilation of files, yes- but despite not being <em>excited </em>to sort through them, some part of him can’t help but be impressed- just a little bit- by her dedication to their mission. “This is very-”</p><p> </p><p>“Comprehensive?” Kym interrupts. “Why, yes- it is, thank you! And <em> you </em> are going to help me sort through it, <em> partner.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Will’s eyes dart upward, bouncing from the stack in her arms to the borrowed ones in his, brows arching at her pronouncement.</p><p> </p><p>“I- Ladell, it’s almost after hours,” he protests, casting a longing glance toward the evening sunlight streaming across the floor, dappling the inside of the hallway in warm stripes of gold.</p><p> </p><p>“All the better for conducting our research undisturbed!” she crows, somehow managing to shift her load into one arm and loop the other into his. “Come on!”</p><p> </p><p>Almost inevitably, papers flutter loose in their wake, like so many flower petals, or a flock of startled birds heralding their approach. When Kym drops to her knees to gather them, the rest balanced against her hip, still more fly free, and Will is taken aback by the snort of laughter that escapes him. </p><p> </p><p>When Kym looks up, a grin of her own playing across her face, Will finds his gaze skipping away, evading the glint of her smile in the manner one might shield their eyes from the sun. </p><p> </p><p>“I think,” he says, clearing his throat and bending to pick up some of the fallen sheets, “you should have a word with our ‘ever-so-helpful’ archivist about better securing these files.” </p><p> </p><p>His remark draws a chuckle from her, somewhat surprisingly, and Will tries to stop himself from noticing the way she brightens as she laughs, easy and uncomplicated, if only for a moment.</p><p> </p><p>(But nothing about Kym Ladell has ever truly been uncomplicated.)</p><p> </p><p>His decision to stay is not a conscious one, but he finds himself falling into step with her, both of them making their way back to the office with their shares of the load.</p><p> </p><p>Perhaps it's not so surprising, he decides later, that he prefers the warm blaze of her presence to the chill of being alone with the weight on his shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>“Of all the possible places to get stuck with you,” Will grumbles, picking absently at the soaked folds of his coat. “This is quite possibly the worst.”</p><p><br/>
<br/>
“Not a fan of the rain, Lieutenant?” Kym smirks, jostling his shoulder and trying to ignore the chill of the weather, which seemed bent on seeping all the way through to her bones. Not only had what she’d hoped to be a potential lead yielded frustratingly little to go on, but the clouds had opened up on them in the middle of the street. And now here they were, shoulder to shoulder under a narrow awning, scanning the streets.</p><p> </p><p>“Not like this.” Will says soberly, grimacing up at the clouds. Kym had never used the word angry to describe clouds before, but these certainly fit the descriptor- a roiling blackened mass overhead, soaking the city in relentless sheets of rain (<em> cold </em> rain, too- it was still January, after all, Kym noted). As though that wasn’t enough, the storm seemed bent on punctuating its onslaught with growls of thunder and flashes of crackling light. Certainly not fit for several blocks’ worth of walking home on foot.</p><p> </p><p>“Fair enough, this is pretty terrible- Willame, look!” she changes tracks mid-thought, grabbing his arm and pointing to what might be their salvation- a solitary cab, headlights fragmented in the rain, making its way slowly across the flooded cobblestones.</p><p> </p><p>A brief glance at each other, and then they’re both dashing into the storm, Will with one hand shielding his eyes and one in the air, flagging the car down, and Kym with her already-soaked coat pulled over her head. Mercifully, the cab slows for them, and they are slightly out of breath when they collapse into the backseat, waterlogged boots, dripping sleeves and all. Kym manages to peel her soaked coat from her arms, tossing it in a wet heap at her feet. Will is no better off, it seems, his curls a rumpled mess as he combs a hand absently through them.</p><p> </p><p>“Where to?” the driver asks, in the tones of someone who feels sorry for his half-drowned (more like three-quarters of the way there, Kym decides, staring outside the car window at the downpour) passengers but vaguely resents having to drive farther in the storm. </p><p> </p><p>“Your house is closer,” Kym says, nudging Will, who had moved to cover his face tiredly. He stirs at the jab of her elbow, leaning forward to give the address, rifling through his pockets for money for the fare.</p><p> </p><p>They ride in relative silence, soaked and shivering, but finally pulling to a stop in front of a familiar front step.</p><p> </p><p>“I never get tired of this view- so <em> classy, </em>Willame,” she whistles, pressing her face to the glass to get a better look.</p><p> </p><p>A strange, weary expression crosses his face, caught somewhere between a grimace and an actual smile. She suspects it isn’t just tiredness making him look like that, can almost sense the worried shadow clinging to him, and just like that a strange half-thought-out urge is gripping her, to make sure he’s okay.</p><p> </p><p>But Will is already taking his leave, stepping from the car and into the rain again. The storm hadn’t lessened up at all on the drive over, still drumming a steady beat on the roof of the cab.</p><p> </p><p>As he leans back in to collect his sodden (nearly forgotten) jacket, their eyes meet for a split second. Kym is tempted to pull a face at him, another attempt to banish the awkwardness between them that still rears its head at inopportune times.</p><p> </p><p>“Um.” Will’s gaze is now trained on the ceiling of the cab above her head, determinedly avoiding hers. “Would you like to come inside? Rather than sitting through another cab ride while you’re still soaked, that is. I’m sure we could find something dry for you to borrow-” there’s a hesitance in his voice, even as the words spill out, and <em> there’s </em> that tension again, something beyond their usual butting of heads. Kym remembers crunching snow and warm arms around her and serious blue eyes on the morning of Harvey’s funeral, hears the tune of that music box lullaby in her head once more, and suddenly wants nothing better than to escape that stare of his. The memory of her last time here- <em> you don’t always have to fix everything, Will- </em> is still fresh in both of their minds, and she decides that she doesn’t want any more of his attempts to ‘help’ tonight.</p><p> </p><p>“No!” she blurts, causing both Will and the driver (the <em> driver- </em> what does he think of all this? Nothing, she hopes, because this is completely and wholly normal. Absolutely fine.) to jump. Will's eyes meet hers for a split second, questioning, and then jump away again, as though he's been singed.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah- no,” she repeats, more quietly this time. “My parents will be wondering where- I should really just go.” She fidgets with the fold of her coat, now draped in her lap, with one hand. The other has slipped instinctively into the pocket, tracing the familiar golden edge of her pocketwatch. She knows Will has caught the movement, and is relieved when he doesn’t press it.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright,” he says after a moment of uncomfortable pause, ducking back out of the car. “Don’t you dare catch a cold, Ladell.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t trip on your way inside, Hawkes,” she shoots back at him, sticking out her tongue for good measure. This is more like it, more of their norm. No more of that tense, searching silence. </p><p> </p><p>The door closes, and she speaks up to give the driver her address (and swears she sees an amused look on the man’s face, briefly). She can see Will in her periphery, hurrying through the rain toward the warmly lit windows of his home.</p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t look out the window as the cab pulls away, and misses the sight of her partner pausing at the front door of his house, unsure hands lingering on the handle.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>“You and Will have been spending a lot of time together,” Lauren observes one morning in the breakroom, arching a brow at Kym, who proceeds to choke on her coffee.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s work related,” she sputters, rushing to clarify, feeling a distinct flare of alarm at the question in her friend’s voice. Lauren thankfully seems satisfied with the truthfulness of that statement and lapses into silence, sipping contentedly at her own coffee.</p><p> </p><p>“I was just curious,” is what she says to break the silence, a few minutes later. “You’ve been looking exhausted lately. I wondered if-”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re one to talk about exhaustion- you insomniac,” Kym shoots back, grinning mischievously. But as Lauren smiles guiltily and the two return to their mugs, the mirth slides from Kym’s face as she stares into the depths of her coffee. How could she possibly explain why she was stressed?<br/>
<br/>
<em> “Hermann wants Hawkes and I to catch Lune, and I think you might be part of it but I’m not completely sure yet and I’m afraid of how Will would react and what the </em> hell <em> are you even doing as part of a vigilante team, anyways? How did you ally yourself with a member of the Phantom Scythe, and who are they, and-” </em><br/>
<br/>
Oh, yes. That would go over swimmingly, Kym thinks, letting out a huff. She doesn’t even know <em> how </em> she’d begin her questions.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re doing it again,” Lauren observes. </p><p> </p><p>“Doing what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sighing. Really, Kym- is everything all right?” Lauren’s eyes had always been striking, and as her too-perceptive gaze meets Kym’s she can’t help but feel caught, bathed in a spotlight or drowning in amber.</p><p> </p><p>“I-” she breaks off, faltering, not wanting to lie but unable to tell the full truth.</p><p> </p><p>“Well. It’s not nothing,” she admits. “But I’ll be fine. I’m handling it, I promise. You don’t need to worry about me.”</p><p> </p><p>Lauren looks at her for a moment, mouth twitching upward in the barest indication of a smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Will must be rubbing off on you. He says that exact same thing to me all the time,” she muses, eyes thoughtful and just a bit worried.</p><p> </p><p>“He does?” Kym echoes, eyebrows raised. “But- you two have been friends for ages. Wouldn’t he confide in you, at least?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Lauren concedes, smiling a bit wider, more genuinely now. “We have. But Will doesn’t like talking about his problems- to anyone.” something shadows her gaze as she says this, something shaped like sadness and concern and longstanding affection, before shaking her head and downing the last of her coffee.</p><p> </p><p>“Hm,” Kym scoffs, mostly to herself. “Of course he doesn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>Lauren looks at her curiously for a moment longer before standing to leave, but doesn’t comment any further. After stacking her mug among the other used coffee cups, she gives Kym a wave and a smile tinged by melancholy, and then departs swiftly through the door. Kym is left, brow furrowed, turning her friend’s words over in her head.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Will must be rubbing off on you. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Kym finds that she doesn’t wish to examine that statement further.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Rubbing off on me </em>,” she scoffs into the empty breakroom, hands tightening around her empty mug. “We’re nothing alike.”</p><p> </p><p>(And yet, she can’t quite shake the feeling that had Lauren not left, she would have heard a lie.)</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I honestly don't have much to say on this mbdhjvs<br/>I don't remember when I started writing it, but over the weekend I found it in my docs again and decided to post it.</p><p>I think it was initially intended to be angst, but I decided to snip that and keep this soft. hope it was a nice little palette cleanser for you all &lt;3</p><p>Especially in light of the events of 77 (which we'll pretend this all happens before), it's very clear to me that Kym and Will are. way more similar than I think they realize- especially when it comes to suppressing their grief. Even if they do so in slightly different ways. I'm... absolutely ecstatic about the fact that they communicated like that. Kym opened up as much as we've ever seen her do- because Will was upset, and she wanted to help him. Be still, my heart.</p><p>Kudos and comments (especially ones screaming about kywi~) are much appreciated. I love hearing from you guys &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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